


Coma Berenices

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “What’s with the cane?” Michael blurts out.“New prosthetic chaffed,” Alex says, “it’ll heal soon.”Well Michael can take that as a comforting thought in the afterlife since seeing Alex with a cane and his dress blues is going to kill him.“Shit,” he says, “you got a new one?”





	1. Dress Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Malex with Michae seeing Alex in his dress uniform

_“_ Damn Alex, looking good,” Liz says, “I take back my earlier complaint of you being late.”

“Don’t start,” Alex says.

Michael tells himself he’s got this. He’s single which is good. Isobel has dressed him which is better. And Max is out of his pod which is the best part of it. Oh and then Kyle’s getting some award at some banquet Isobel has managed to score them tickets to. But so is Alex because Alex and Kyle are a team now. And joined at the hip. But not anywhere else, or so Liz has not inconspicuously told him on several occasions. So the stars are aligned. The cards are in his favor and he has got this. He turns around with his best devil may care grin.

He does not got this.

Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Alex has been wearing clothes that make him look like a hotter version of the seventeen year old goth who made a plastic visor look like a fashion statement. He’s got more money and more resources now. Michael has pretended not to notice because he’s been in a relationship. But now he’s not and instead of letting himself think that Alex looks good in his expensive emo get ups, he’s now subjected to the sight of Alex Manes in his dress blues. He’s seen him in his military uniform before, in several varieties of it actually. He doesn’t look comfortable in any of them. So, naturally, he picks the dress blues to look comfortable in.

Men are not supposed to wear a tuxedo that well.

Alex is not supposed to wear a tuxedo that well.

God he looks like prom but about a billion times better. The blue is darker, the fabric is better and, fuck him, Alex fills it out really, really well. Even the slim cane he’s using isn’t enough to dampen it. Actually, it’s the opposite. He looks like he walked off the set of some old time movie, where the women wore the kind of gowns that Isobel is wearing and the men made Michael realize he was attracted to both sexes. Michael never quite worked up the nerve to ask if Alex has the hole from his septum piercing. Now it’s all he can think about. Alex catches him staring and gives him an odd look before coming over.

“What’s with the cane?” He blurts out.

“New prosthetic chaffed,” he says, “it’ll heal soon.”

Well Michael can take that as a comforting thought in the afterlife since seeing Alex with a cane and his dress blues is going to kill him.

“Shit,” he says, “you got a new one?”

Alex nods.

“I keep running through them,” he says.

“I hope you don’t mean that literally,” Michael replies.

Michael decides it’s the grin that’s going to kill him. Not the cane or the suit or the wondering if Alex can still fit a ring through his nose. He aches. In a very familiar way when it comes to Alex, if he thinks about it. Which is something he really didn’t want to go back to. They’ve both taken so many baby steps forward. He doesn’t want to be there pining like he used to. Maybe he can just get really stupid drunk now that Max is back to take up the mantle of Alien Messiah and Worlds Best Brother. Fuck knows Michael’s shit at the first part and yeah, he can hold his own at the second. But Max back is nice. Alex bumps his shoulder with his own.

“You glad to have him back?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says. His first instinct is, again, to deny but Alex looks at him with that steady smile and he kind of fails at that instinct, “yeah I am. He’s probably got two more weeks before I want to put him back in the pod myself,” he says.

Alex laughs.

Fuck him so hard, Michael thinks. He can’t stand there looking this good and laugh at Michael’s dark sense of humor. That’s not fair. He promised Isobel he was going to behave. He wants to show Max he’s changed. And he wants Alex to stop standing there looking so good in his uniform and laughing at his jokes in that horribly honest way of his.

“You know I could take a look if you wanted,” he says, “at your prosthetics.”

“I know,” Alex says, “it just—“

“I know they’re delicate and shit,” Michael continues, “I’d be careful.”

“I know,” Alex says, his eyebrows drawing together, “I know you would. I just didn’t want to waste your time while they’re still trying to figure it out.”

Michael frowns.

“That’s not a waste of time,” he says.

Alex looks at him silently. He doesn’t know how they’ve fallen back into this mind reading bullshit when they’re both so bad at it and so bad at lying. But Alex nods after a moment.

“I’ll let you take a look,” he says.

Michael nods.

“In the meantime,” he says, “the cane’s hot.”

Alex scoffs but there’s an affection to it that hasn’t been there in a while. At least, not where Michael can see. When Alex turns away he can see the faint red staining his ears and tries not to feel too cocky about the fact that he can still make him blush. He can’t let that go to his head after all.

Champagne goes to his head though.

And the problem is that Alex keeps coming by him. Looking so good in a way that’s both his past, his present and probably his future. It’s messing with his head. Plus shit never changes in Roswell so the more champagne he drinks the easier it is to pretend they are back at prom and any second Valenti will say something stupid and a fistfight will break out and he will not have to watch the two of them standing side by side. The most aggravating thing about the universe is how it deems it appropriate to teach Michael a lesson by putting him in the position he didn’t want to be in. But let it never be said that Michael Guerin is one to wallow. To wait? Sure. But there’s a difference and he is distinctly on the wallow side.

“How bad’s the chafing?” He asks Alex abruptly, when they wind up alone again on the balcony.

“It’s manageable,” he says, “as long as I keep the pressure off it,” his eyes narrow fractionally, “why?”

Michael holds out his hand.

“Dance with me.”

Alex glances around before he cautiously puts his cane to the side and puts his hand on Michael’s shoulder. Michael puts his arm around his waist, helping take some of the weight. For a moment Alex is tense. More tense than he usually is when things like this are done.

“I got you,” Michael assures him and son of a bitch, Alex relaxes cautiously, “see? Not so bad.”

“We’ve never done this,” Alex points out.

“We were waiting until we looked this good,” Michael says. Alex chuckles and shakes his head, “you know I’m right.”

“I know you have a lot of cheesy pick up lines,” Alex says, “next you’re going to say this is like prom.”

“You do look like prom,” Michael tells him, “except for the ring. Do you still have the hole?”

“I—“ Alex presses his lips together and goes for his ‘Michael Guerin’s shooting his mouth off’ eyeball, “you can’t tell me I look like prom and ask about my holes,” he scolds.

“I think I just did,” Michael replies.

Alex shakes his head and looks down but Michael is the one who Isobel practiced dancing on her entire early childhood because Max was in her head and knew the danger. Also he had cooties. Michael doesn’t step on people’s feet when he dances with them. Or people’s foot, in this case. When Alex looks back up at him there’s a hesitance in his eyes that makes Michael want to break their hold and not push this past where it can be.

“Is it weird? Seeing me in this?” He asks, his eyes scanning his face. Michael does him the courtesy of thinking about his own feelings.

“It makes me think of prom,” he says, “makes me think of how I wanted to dance with you and couldn’t.”

Alex looks at him, genuinely surprised at the statement. Their getting to know each other has been strictly within the confines of who they are. Not who they were. But the world doesn’t end when Michael says prom. When he brings up that time in their lives when one act of kindness changed everything.

“We’re dancing now,” Alex says.

“Yeah,” Michael replies, something expanding in his chest, “we are.”

Michael stays as people start to leave. Isobel is not the worst roommate he could ask for, even if she does have no concept of what’s his room and what’s her OCD playground. Alex has a car taking him back to his cabin because as the award dinner recipient, he’s fancy now. Michael notices him leaning a bit more on the cane as he walks him out but when Alex turns to him, there’s nothing but satisfaction on his face.

“Can you take a look at this?” He asks, “tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Michael says, “afternoon okay?”

“It’s great,” Alex says and stops only for a moment before continuing, “join me for dinner afterwards?”

Michael thinks he might have just died. Not by the cane or the laugh or the blue fabric that stretches across Alex’s shoulders. Nope. Alex has asked him out properly with witnesses around and that is what is going to kill him. He’s nodding before he can get the words out and Alex gives him a smile that’s definitely not helping him stay alive until tomorrow.

“Goodnight,” he says and slides into the car smoother than he has any fucking right to, “oh, and Michael?” Michael fights the urge to bite his lip, “the answer to your earlier question is yes.”

Michael’s forgotten his earlier question until Alex rubs his thumb under his nose.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He’s going to wear the nose ring tomorrow.

Well now Michael has to stay alive until then, just to see that.


	2. WD-40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: can u follow up michael seeing alex in his uniform with the septum ring?

Michael has a streak of WD-40 across his nose and Alex can’t take his eyes off it.

Alex has gone through a multitude of distinct looks in his life. Phases, as his father used to call them. Phases was Jesse Manes’ term for anything he didn’t like that he thought should stop. Some phases ended. He didn’t wear fishnets or chokers as often. Some phases had not. He still wanted to rip off every piece of clothing Michael had on. He pushes the urge aside and watches instead as Michael works. He’s taken apart most of the prosthetic, each piece is carefully laid out along the newspaper he’s covered Alex’s table with and most of them are labeled as well. Michael’s bent over the socket, a look of concentration on his face as he works. Alex wishes that he wasn’t so intimately acquainted with Michael concentrating and working on his body.

“Can I get you something?” He asks. Michael glances up. He’s not startled because Michael is always aware of his surroundings. For a multitude of reasons that make Alex ache to think about, “coffee? Tea? Beer?”

“You keep offering,” Michael observes, “I told you, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Alex says, trying to think of the last time he offered.

“Tell me about dinner,” Michael says, refocusing him, “where we going?”

He knows the intention is to keep him from offering Michael yet another round of drinks he doesn’t want. He’s got the combination of nerves and excitement that only Michael seems able to bring up in him. Dinner should be a neutral topic, dinner can be casual and easy. He asked Michael to have dinner but he’s asked him to grab beers before. There’s nothing explicit about it that says date. Or there wouldn’t be if Alex hadn’t set himself up for something truly humiliating. No, he tells himself, he can be casual about this. He can watch Michael rotate the joints of his leg and think about all the things those fingers can do to appendages with nerve endings and he can be casual. Easy.

“I figured I could put a couple steaks on,” he says, “I got a grill.”

It would be easy to mistake the tension that comes into Michael’s broad shoulders for a million other things. The give away is that he stops working on Alex’s leg and looks up at him.

“You’re cooking?” Michael repeats. Alex shrugs.

“It seemed fair,” he says, nodding to the leg.

It would be easy to misconstrue this as another thing he’s doing to avoid being seen with Michael in public. He knows that. Michael could argue and he could explain the thought process behind it. But some force is kind or maybe Michael just knows him really well because he recognizes the gesture for what it is. Michael has a weakness for home cooked food Alex is keenly aware of. Eating at home means he can hide the acetone in anything. It means there’s a kitchen and someone willing to cook in it. It means a lot of things. Most telling is how it takes Michael a full minute and one impossibly long blink to give a quick nod and go back to the leg.

“Sounds good,” he says.

Alex tries not to smile and fails miserably. Michael refocuses on the leg but his body curls over it. Alex knows his retreats, even the small ones. Michael has always had the uncanny ability to make him smile. Even sarcastically. For a man who professes to be angry at everything, this is somewhat of a unique talent. But Michael has always been unaware of the joy he can bring to the people around him. Alex watches him as he frowns at something and reaches for the oil before he relaxes again.

“Can you pass me that screw?” Michael asks, nodding to the screw near Alex’s elbow. Alex picks it up and rolls it across. Michael catches it, “thanks,” he says.

“Why don’t you use your power?” Alex asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re telekinetic,” Alex points out, “but I never see you slip up with your powers.”

Michael goes red around the ears, but his hand’s don’t stop working.

“Not around you,” he says. Alex waits. Michael sets down the screwdriver, “I’m used to controlling them around you,” he says.

“How come?”

Finally Michael scowls.

“What do you mean ‘how come’?” He says, “I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Your powers never scared me,” Alex tells him. Michael gives him one of those self deprecating smiles, “I think they’re cool.”

Michael stares at him. Despite how badly he wants to look away and be embarrassed, he finds he can’t. Michael’s moments of true vulnerability have always been few and far between. Usually there’s some kind of barrier between them. Some defense that gets in the way. It’s not Michael being a miserable liar, though God knows he’s that, it’s him letting his guard stay down for more than a fraction of a moment. By choice. He hasn’t chosen to do that in front of Alex for a long time. They came close last night, but seeing it fully in his kitchen with Michael holding his leg and WD-40 on his nose is something Alex finds he’s not expecting. Equally surprising is the warm feeling that curls through him. It’s something he’s managed to bury when it comes to Michael for a long time. Michael looks back at the leg and reaches for the next part before stopping and looking back at him.

“You think they’re cool?” Michael repeats.

“Yes,” he says, seeing no reason to hide it except that Michael doesn’t seem to believe him, “you can move things with your mind. You’re like a Jedi.”

“No,” Michael says, “I’m an alien.”

“Aliens can be Jedi,” Alex starts before realizing that Michael is teasing him, “stop being an asshole. It’s hard to cook on three legs,” he says.

“Well stop distracting me,” Michael says.

“How am I distracting you?” Alex asks.

In his head he almost expects Michael to say he’s always distracting him or some cheesy romantic line like that. No, he’s not expecting. He’s hoping. Kind of. Though truth be told he has no idea what he’ll do if that’s the move Michael is going to pull. But instead of some suave or brutally honest line, Michael sets down the tool he’s using and fixes him with a painfully direct look.

“Is it in?” He asks.

Now it’s his turn to blush. When Michael brought it up last night, Alex hadn’t been expecting it. He’d gotten it rashly, after a particularly heated argument that turned violent. When, half blind with rage, he had decided that if anyone was going to leave marks on his body it was going to be him.  Most of the jewelry he’d sported in his youth had been fake in one way or another but not that. Obviously he didn’t put jewelry in it often anymore, but the hole was still there. And he did still have a few rings. Michael looks at his eyes but his gaze keep flicking to his nose.  Alex sighs and ducks his head, turning the horseshoe barbell over. He sits up and looks at Michael.

Michael drops the screwdriver.

Michael never drops his tools. For as long as Alex has been watching his hands, which is longer than he cares to admit, he never drops things. But the screwdriver rolls towards him. Alex tears his gaze from Michael’s unfathomable one and catches the screwdriver with his foot before it can roll away. He ducks down and from that angle he watches Michael get up. His mouth goes dry with anticipation. Usually Alex thinks of the horror that happened in the shed. But for the first time he thinks of standing there with Michael in front of him, wanting him. The septum ring and Michael’s healed hand help. But nothing gets him there faster than when he sits up and Michael is standing in front of him. Alex sets the screwdriver down carefully. He could do any number of things and in a moment all are appealing. The WD-40 is dark against the newspaper and Alex thinks of all the marks Michael has left on him. Does he want more?

“It looks good,” Michael says hoarsely, like his voice isn’t used to giving compliments but fuck if he’s not willing to try.

“You seemed curious,” Alex says.

“Alex—“ he heard the hesitation,  the doubt, “can you look at me?”

Alex presses his dry lips together. It’s completely irrational how despite all the preparation he’s done in anticipation of this moment, now that he’s here he doesn’t know how to move forward. He forces himself into the pain and turns around. Michael’s in front of him but he’s crouched down, putting them on equal height. He has always told himself that Michael has the ability to run from him and that he needs to go first if he has any chance of surviving this. Michael can run but he doesn’t. Alex can’t but he—he doesn’t know if he wants to. He hates that feeling.

And Michael still has WD-40 on his nose.

“You’ve got,” he motions to his nose, “come here.”

Michael frowns but leans forward. Alex grabs a tissue and wipes at the smudge. He gets most of it but there’s still oil on Michael’s skin. This is the closest they’ve been in months. Michael’s got a hand on the table behind him and this close, Alex can see his eyelashes and his freckles and all the little parts of him he hasn’t been able to see. Michael is trying intently to look at his eyes but the horseshoe keeps distracting him. Of all the Michael’s Alex knows, distracted by shiny things Michael is among his favorites.

“So do you keep it in and like up there the whole time or—“ he trails off, looking at him for an answer.

Alex kisses him instead.

Michael presses into the kiss and Alex winds up with his back against the table. Michael’s arm braces his side, compensating for the fact that he’s got nothing to keep him grounded on that side. Alex grips Michael’s shoulders and neck, pulling him closer and finally hooks his knee around the back of Michael’s things. Michael pulls back just enough to swear like it’s the hottest thing Alex has ever done before surging forward. Alex doesn’t have a name for the sound he makes when Michael licks into his mouth and the reason he’s refused coffee becomes apparent. He tastes like mint. He brushed his teeth. Alex buries his fingers in Michael’s curls, angling his head and kissing him deeper. The smell of grease and tools spikes the adrenaline through him but he uses that to kiss him harder, pulling him closer until they are pressed together and the table and Michael are the only things keeping him upright. The need to leave slips away and getting closer is the only thought that takes his mind.

“Wait wait wait,” Michael pulls back, his lips flushed and swollen as he rocks his forehead against Alex’s, “I gotta—“ his eyes open and drag to the metal in Alex’s nose. A low sound escapes him and Alex decides not to help by rocking his hips forward, “fuck. Alex,” Michael swears and his name is just as much a curse.

“Yes,” he gets out, “you should do that.”

“Shit, come on,” Michael looks around blankly and Alex has never hated the fact that he needs crutches without his leg more. It doesn’t make him less hard but the embarrassment is sharp, “fuck it,” Michael looks at him, “you said my powers were cool?”

No way.

Alex nods.

“Okay hang on,” Michael says and grips his thigh that’s still around the back of his legs. Michael’s brow furrows and there’s a feel of pressure around the stump of his leg. It feels like sinking into a pit of foam, the pressure that surrounds his leg is perfect in a way no sleeve has been able to replicate. Alex pushes himself up and it’s almost seamless with how he can put pressure on it. His lips part as he looks down, the air around his stump is warped slightly but it’s holding, “good?”

“Holy shit,” Alex says faintly, “how long—“

“Long enough,” Michael says.

Alex kisses him in front of the island with the smell of oil and metal and a leg he doesn’t need for the next few minutes behind him. Michael’s body heat spikes with the use of his power. The finite control takes more out of him than the large explosions, or maybe it’s just using it on him. But his kisses turn fevered and softer. Alex drags him over to the couch and pushes him down, following him. The power squeezes his leg and then releases him, but Alex has already taken his weight onto his knees, straddling Michael’s thigh. Michael flattens his foot and pushes up, seeking the friction. Alex flattens his hand on his pelvis, pushing him back down.

“Fuck,” Michael swears again, looking up at him. Alex feels himself smile and Michael full on whimpers, “come on,” He squirms up and it’s hot and sexy and Alex suspects has just as much to do with him and his nose ring as it does with the unfinished project, “Alex,” Michael whines his name and it sends all his blood going south.

“Let me see you,” he gets out and Michael stares back at him.

He nods messily as Alex holds them both there. It’s torture. But it’s torture of the best kind. He said he wanted to know Michael more than just instinctively. More than just dark fucks and stolen moments. They’re in the middle of the open living room, there’s nothing quick or secretive about the fact that he would have to crawl away and Michael is spread underneath him, pinned in a different fashion. He pushes up Michael’s shirt and Michael rocks back and then curls up to help him get it off without having to rearrange themselves. Alex throws his shirt to the side and pushes back into Michael’s heat. He tries to keep some space between them but he feels something invisible tug his belt lightly in a silent request. Alex pulls back and Michael stares up at him, fear starting in his eyes as if he’s unsure of the boundary he may have crossed.

“Can you fuck with your power?” Alex asks.

The fear vanishes.

“You—“ Michael looks up at him, even more wrecked, “you can’t talk about my powers and fucking.”

“How come?” Alex asks, trying to sound as devil may care as Michael usually manages to.

“Because I’m gonna finish before we get our hands on each other,” Michael tells him.

That makes Alex grin.

Michael whimpers.

It’s a good whimper, but Alex still sits back on Michael’s thigh to undo his belt. Michael presses his chin to his chest to watch as Alex undoes his jeans. He’s not surprised Michael isn’t wearing underwear but the notion he’s been bare under his jeans this whole time makes him ache with anticipation. He wraps his hand around Michael who swears messily again reaches for Alex’s belt. Alex rocks forward, matching the motion with his hand and Michael shudders from his very core. He grabs Alex’s belt and shoves everything down to get to his member, his other hand kneading at the small of Alex’s back. Alex is so used to fucking with Michael only having one hand that when he feels all ten fingers he almost loses it right there. He doesn’t, but it’s not long before their movements become stuttered and the only thing they seem able to say are curses and each other’s names.

It takes him a moment to get his baring after he sees white with his face buried in Michael’s neck. His curls are tickling his ear. He pulls back to look at Michael who still has grease on his nose. Though Alex imagines they both do now. Both their pants are half off and he can feel how badly they need showers. It’s messy and wonderful in a way Alex wasn’t sure they ever could be. He braces his weight on his forearms and kisses Michael slower and softer, pulling back to take in the sight of him just living in the moment like he so rarely does. Like they so rarely do. Michael’s hand comes up between them and his fingertips touch the ballbearing. Alex kisses his fingers, and he can feel Michael’s shuddering breath on his face.

“I missed you,” Michael says and the vulnerability makes Alex open his eyes to look at him. Michael’s hand slips over his ear and to the back of his neck as he kisses him with all the gentleness he can.

“I missed you too,” he echoes as Michael pushes up against him.

The sweetness breaks around the moan Michael’s other hand forces from him.

Later he chops vegetables with the cutting board on the stool next to him. Michael still has his leg spread out, but his back is pressed against him. They’re hair is still wet from the shower but it’s not going to be the last one they take if the grease on Michael’s hands is any indication. Nor is it the last load of laundry, but Alex will sacrifice every Air Force shirt he owns if they wind up on Michael’s torso.

“I don’t get it,” Michael complains, “how is it not uncomfortable to have balls up your nose?”

“They aren’t that big,” Alex tells him, “isn’t it uncomfortable to have that massive belt buckle digging into your stomach if you bend over?”

“Leave my belt buckle out of this,” Michael says, twisting to look at him, “it did nothing to you.”

“It absolutely did things to me,” Alex shoots back, twisting to meet his gaze. Michael’s hand automatically comes to make sure he doesn’t topple. Michael turns back and gets the final pieces in, “Okay lets try my second favorite piece of metal on you,” He says, coming around. He pulls on the sleeve and slots his leg into the device. Easing forward, he rocks down to get the air out. The device responds perfectly and instead of any pressure points, it seals against him smoothly, “how’s it feel?”

“This is—“ Alex stops. He has a name for the feeling that hits him, but he doesn’t have the words. What comes out is a shuddering breath that has Michael scrambling to his feet, looking at him anxiously. Alex grips his shoulders and presses their foreheads together, “thank you,” he says. Michael’s relief is immediate but it pales in comparison to what he feels, “thank you, thank you—“ he can’t say anything else.

“That good?” Michael asks. Alex nods, “good because I reverse engineered some things that means the military might not take this back.”

“I’m never taking this leg off,” Alex swears. Michael chuckles but he’s pleased none the less. The hands that are steadying his hips drop just enough so that Michael’s thumbs are against his skin.

“What if we table the steaks,” Michael says, “and order pizza?”

The idea of cooking for Michael is a good one but it’s super hard to think about not having his hands on him while he’s cooking. Michael’s thumbs find his hipbones.

“Pizza sounds great,” he gets out.

“We can eat on the couch?”

Alex thinks about what they did on the couch before and nods.

“Good,” Michael says, turning so he’s pulling him forwards, “i noticed your leg’s waterproof.”

Alex swears.

“Okay, but there’s something I want you to do.”

“Anything,” Michael kisses his neck, “Everything.”

Alex plans on holding him to that.

* * *

 

“What did you say he did?” Colin asks as Michael lays out the tools he needs. Alex hands him a cup of coffee.

“He’s a mechanic,” Alex says, “he can help.”

Michael comes over. He looks nervous but determined, Alex can’t help the pride he feels as Michael sits down. Colin and Alex both have parts of their bodies and their souls rotting in the desert a world away. The body parts, at least, are probably still laying close to each other. Colin looks between them and then shakes his head, undoing his prosthetic. A lot more of his leg comes off and he rolls up his shorts to take off the sleeve.

“The thing keeps coming loose,” he explains, “and the knee sticks, it’s uncomfortable as hell,” he explains as Michael looks and then turns to the leg, “Can you do anything?”

Anything. Everything.

“Yeah,” Michael says after a moment’s consideration, “I can help.”

Colin looks so relieved Alex clasps his shoulder as Michael goes back over. Colin knows about Alex’s struggles to get the right fit for his leg. Colin looks at him gratefully and then his eyes narrow and he cranes his neck.

“What’s in your nose?”


End file.
